


Suggestion

by yeaka



Series: A Honeycomb Tree [8]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Dom/sub, Ficlet, Half-Mirrorverse, M/M, Master/Servant, PWP, Public Humiliation, Voice Kink, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 10:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Khan grants Jim release and explores the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suggestion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpesAbrin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpesAbrin/gifts).



> A/N: Xmas fill for pgnbri [on tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/66814629392/musing). (That probably doesn’t go as intended, oops.) Thank you for all your reviews! :) 
> 
> This is set in an AU where the setting is similar to the mirror universe in some regards, but the characters are more similar to the regular ones. **Blanket warning** for the Terran Empire being a totalitarian dystopia with all its trickle-down issues, which tinges the servitude with hints of slavery. While this is written smutty, please be aware of the problematic fantasy elements and your own comfort levels.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

A good deal of Khan’s time in the chair is spent staring down at the console embedded in his right armrest, checking over PADDs handed to him, and staring at the viewscreen, running calculations through his head. Very little of his on-duty time is actually spent indulging in more... interesting... activities. Today, a sudden twitch draws his eyes down; his pet’s fidgeted. 

He waits a minute, pretending not to look, and James Kirk does it again, shifting his weight and shoving his hands down into his lap. A few seconds and he’s at it again, rocking back and forth, until he can’t seem to stand it anymore and turns to look up at Khan, big blue eyes pleading. 

He knows better than to speak unless spoken to though. Pets shouldn’t talk unless ordered. Khan tilts his head, wondering, with amusement, just how long his little blond can last. Jim drank way too much water out of his bowl by Khan’s feet this morning; Khan told him as much. Sometimes, Jim has a listening problem. Sooner or later, he’ll have to learn.

A few more minutes and Jim makes a pained whining sound in the back of his throat, leaning forward to nuzzling into Khan’s arm, draped along the armrest. It’s evidently a good thing Khan allows his personal servant to wear underwear; the white briefs are the only thing Jim has, and without them, he might be about to leave a stain on the bridge floor. There’re more than a few eyes discreetly watching the captain’s pet—he’s particularly pretty when he’s pouting.

He makes another keening noise, and Khan, finally taking pity, drawls, “Do you need something, pet?”

Jim nods furiously and licks his lips, trying to communicate with his eyes what he needs. As though Khan couldn’t figure it out. Khan moves his arm to stroke back through Jim’s golden hair, and he purrs in that certain _tone_ that always seems to make Jim’s face hot, “Do you need to go, Jim?”

Jim does blush. He nods again, his hands shuffling in his lap, leaning up on his knees. Khan smirks, fingers running down to stroke under Jim’s chin. Jim’s lashes flutter; he’s so very easy to string along. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. 

Khan leans down enough to nip at the shell of Jim’s ear, and he purrs into it, “So _go_.” 

He pulls back in time to see Jim’s pretty baby blues open wide, lips parting. He looks up at Khan like he can’t believe his ears, and Khan smirks languidly, clear in what he said. Khan’s hand trails its way down to Jim’s neck, lightly wrapping around and squeezing his throat. Jim coughs once, and it’s hard to tell if he’s red from that or Khan’s voice or embarrassment. Khan lifts an eyebrow, daring Jim to defy him.

Jim’s eyebrows knit together. He’ll do it if he has to, but apparently he’ll look like a kicked puppy during it. Khan usually has too excitable and eager a servant to put up with that.

“Jim,” Khan sighs, pushing Jim’s chin up and forcing Jim to lift higher on bare, trembling thighs, “I don’t want to hurt you. If you have to go, you should go.” He makes it sound so simple, and he keeps his voice soft, soothing, kind. He watches the way it makes Jim’s eyelids droop slightly, the way Jim subtly leans into him. Jim’s said more than once that he _loves_ Khan’s voice, and Khan knows just how to use it. He pets Jim’s cheek while he talks, making everything bad better. “I only want you to be comfortable. You have to do what you have to do; no one will blame you. Dogs go in front of their masters all the time, right in public... you’re my pet, aren’t you? Surely you can behave for me better than a _dog_ can...” He can literally see the wheels, oiled with Khan’s words, turning in Jim’s head. “Jim... no one’s going to judge you if you go now...”

Jim’s lips part, and he whimpers loudly. Khan makes a soothing noise that turns Jim’s whine into a small moan, and as soon as Khan bends to press a kiss into Jim’s cheek, Jim’s turning into it, crooning. “I know you’ll be a good boy for me,” Khan hisses, quiet for the illusion of intimacy, just him in his puppy’s ear, the rest of the busy noises of the bridge drowning into obscurity. “Don’t be worried that I’ll be angry with you for ruining your underwear. I won’t be. I’d be much more upset if I had to leave the bridge right now for you. ...You don’t want to upset me, do you, Jim?”

Jim shakes his head quickly. He’s shaking all over. He can be difficult on some days, but he never outright defies Khan; he wouldn’t risk his contract. If Khan keeps talking, Jim will end up bursting whether he wants to or not. Jim makes another tiny whining noise and asks softly, voice cracking, “Will you... will you talk me through it?” His normal confidence is shot; he looks tiny and unsure if he was even allowed to speak. Khan nods benevolently, trying to hide his smirk. 

Jim smiles back, suddenly alight and full of hope. Khan presses a kiss into the side of his face. 

“Let go,” Khan whispers, right into Jim’s ear, tongue pausing to trace the shell. “You’ve always been a dirty boy, haven’t you? You don’t mind getting filthier, not for your master, whom you love with everything you have.” Jim’s nodding: yes, yes, and there’s a tiny hiss in the air that reaches Khan before the smell. “Good boy. _Good boy._ Keep going, Jim. Let it pool up against your cock and dribble down your thighs... it doesn’t matter if it hits the bridge—you’re the _captain’s_ property; other servants will lick it up. Now, piss for me like the wanton thing you are... come undone; you’re nothing except what you do for me... you’d do anything I wanted and you’d _love_ it, you pretty, beautiful dog...” Jim’s nearly rocking back and forth, whimpering and moaning, and he’s red with mingled pleasure and humiliation. Khan’s careful to keep his foot away from Jim’s knees. Jim’s head falls back, eyes closed, and Khan whispers a slew of degrading words to him. Jim would lick up his own piss if Khan told him to. Jim would do _anything_.

Jim finishes with an inhuman groan, head falling forward. Khan grabs a chunk of his hair and jerks his head back, wanting a good look at the mess. Jim’s breathing heavy from exertion, eyes still closed. He’s pink from ear to ear. Khan jerks his head back farther, tilting to get a good look, and Jim’s arms shoot behind his back to steady himself against the floor. The white fabric of his briefs is soaked through, clinging limply to the thick outline of his cock. His thighs are sporting little rivers, and he’s sitting in a small puddle. It’s far more of a turn on than it should be. 

Khan didn’t fully intend that. He loves humiliating Jim in any capacity, loves even more testing the limits of what Jim will do for him. The specifics of what he was starting this time didn’t really hit him until just now, the way his own cock wants to harden with the sight of a newly debauched Jim Kirk. This is... interesting. 

Before he gets too into it to participate, Khan makes up his mind. He keeps his grip in Jim’s hair and uses it to shove Jim forward, force Jim to crawl around the chair, hands and knees clumsily avoiding the puddle. Khan spreads his legs and pulls Jim right up between them; Jim’s eyes dart up with a big, black question mark in them.

“Didn’t all that rushing liquid make you thirsty, Jim?” Khan purrs, planting it all in Jim’s head. “You must feel so empty now, and a good servant is never empty, not when his master still has things to give...” Jim’s eyes open all the way again; he must guess what Khan’s implying. 

Khan pulls Jim right up close to his crotch. It’s far from the first time he’s undone his fly on the bridge. It won’t be the last, either. Sex in the captain’s chair is definitely one of the greatest perks of leading in the Empire. All doubt seems to disappear from Jim’s face as he stares dutifully at Khan’s crotch, cock pulling out a moment later. 

Khan knows he’s well endowed. He always gives Jim a second to take it in: the long, thick shaft that always finds its way into Jim’s willing, pliant body. Today, Jim eyes it hungrily, then a bit curiously; it’s not as hard as it usually is when Khan bothers with a public romp.

It doesn’t have to be for this, and Khan doesn’t waste time getting there. He holds himself out, smearing his tip over Jim’s plush lips, and he asks again, “You want to drink anything that comes out of my cock, don’t you, pet?”

Jim fidgets and says only a tad hesitantly, “Yes, master.” Khan lifts an eyebrow, and Jim flushes deeper, insisting, “I do!” He opens his mouth on his own and slips onto the bulbous head, suckling once to show his submission. Khan chuckles and taps the back of his head; he’ll have to go further than that. 

Jim can deep throat better than any mouth Khan’s ever had around his cock, and Jim’s throat feels better too. He’s good with his tongue, careful with his teeth, smart with his suction. ...Usually, though, that happens when Khan’s hard. Jim seems to have quite a bit more trouble getting his way down Khan’s mostly-limp cock that stiffens more and more as Jim goes, until Jim’s as near to the base as he can get. Khan groans along the way and tries not to grab Jim, tries not to force more. He doesn’t want to get into it too much; that’s not what Jim will have this time. 

Jim will have Khan’s piss and drink it down, and he leans his head back against his chair with a sigh, settling in. He doesn’t need to go, but he still can a little bit. He doesn’t care if the rest of the crew sees him piss; he’s doing it to degrade an underling, and that’ll command more than enough respect. Everyone on this ship knows that Khan owns them, that domination is Khan’s specialty. This is just one more facet with which to express it. He holds Jim in by the hair—always does love pulling those soft blond strands—and abruptly bursts.

Jim chokes immediately in surprise, but Khan’s holding him on tight, and Khan doesn’t let up, pissing straight down Jim’s throat. He can feel it rushing past and sloshing around him, feel Jim’s tight walls convulsing in their attempt to gag. He won’t let them. Jim’s better than that. Jim struggles to control himself, tears welling up in his eyes from the strain. His tongue is held flat to the bottom of his mouth and his lips are stretched wide, so far down that there’s no pulling off. He looks _delicious_.

Khan strokes his cheek and shushes him, murmuring in his most sultry tones, “Don’t fight it, Jim. That’s right, baby, swallow it down. Gulp it up. You’re making me very happy, drinking my piss like a good little bitch... good boy...”

Jim’s lids grow heavy again, eyes dulling. He’s said before that Khan’s cock inside him combined with Khan’s voice makes him dizzy. He looks like he’s getting dizzy. He melts into it, throat relaxing, and Khan keeps talking him through it, purring, “Yes, you look so pretty like this, on your knees for me... you should be very proud, Jim, getting to drink from the cock of the great Khan Noonien Singh... it’s an honour to have your stomach filling with my piss...” Jim moans in agreement, and he sucks in. Khan’s breath catches: his version of approval. Jim starts sucking adamantly, rocking forward and slurping up what he can, swallowing load after load. He looks up at Khan after through thick blond lashes, eyes begging Khan to keep talking.

Smirking, Khan repeats, “Good boy... you’re a very good boy...”

And then it runs out, and Jim keeps sucking, stays down, trying to get out every last drop. Khan’s cock is hardening under Jim’s greedy ministrations; Jim’s stomach is evidently going to be full of more than just his piss. In a few sucks, it’s hard enough for Jim to start bobbing up and down on it, and Khan lets him get a few thrusts in before suddenly jerking him off. 

Khan throws him backwards, and Jim stumbles in surprise, staring up at Khan, looking almost feral. Jim looks horny and desperate and faint with lust. He licks his swollen lips and has the nerve to beg, “Master, please—”

But Khan’s already agreed. He tucks himself back into his pants as he gets up from his chair, ignoring the various looks he draws. He doesn’t have to tell his crew to keep working; with Jim on the bridge, this isn’t so uncommon. They’ll be jealous, but that’s inevitable. Khan reaches to grab Jim by the hair again, and he unceremoniously drags Jim off towards his office.

Just before the doors close, his first officer calls, “How long do you plan to be absent for, Captain?”

Without bother to look, Khan tells Spock, “However long it takes for my pet to pass out from the force of my cock.”

He takes the final step in, letting the doors snap shut behind him.


End file.
